maybes and might-have-beens
by JaneScarlett
Summary: Some days, River lies on her bed in Stormcage, thinking of the twists and turns that led her to where she is... wondering if she might have been happier in a life not led.


**Disclaimer: sadly, I own nothing of Doctor Who (except an awful lot of fan paraphernalia).**

* * *

'_What is a 'might-have-been'? They are ghosts. I daresay I 'might have been' a great swell of a painter, instead of just this uncommonly happy nobody. Or again, I might have been a worthless idle waster of a fellow. Who knows? Some little kink in me might have set me off on the wrong road. And the poor soul I might so easily have been might have had no you…_'  
-taken from _Dear Brutus_ (J. M. Barrie)

Some days, River lies on her bed in Stormcage, thinking of the twists and turns of her life that led her to where she is; and correspondingly, each road left untaken. Each and every might-have-been that could-have-been, if she'd chosen differently. If she'd used those Time Lord sensitivities granted to her in her TARDIS-manipulated DNA, seen each possibility... and taken a firm step in the other direction.

Some days those niggling little thoughts, those might-have-beens almost eat her alive. Tearing at bone and blood and brain until she can think of nothing else.

The earliest question of all... the first possibility. If she'd stayed as Melody Pond... Oh, now that was a thought. If she'd succeeded in killing the Doctor as a child, what would have happened to that little weapon then?

River squeezes her eyes shut, following that trail to its inevitable end. There is always one more monster to fight, one more demon to slay. A gun exists only to hurt and kill, and when the Doctor was eliminated, she has no doubts that Melody Pond, Weapon Extraordinaire would have been used by the Silence until she eventually broke, body lifeless and mind shattered. Regenerating to enact the same life, again and again and again...

No, River thinks, hearts twisting and fists clenched again the rough Stormcage sheets. That is one might-have-been that she is glad failed. And, it is equally as useless to think of those other tangent lines stemming from 1969. _If_ Amy had aimed true, shot her and not just her visor. _If_ the Doctor had understood, just a bit earlier the significance of a little girl in an astronaut suit, strong and running away.

And if, just maybe she herself been brave enough to walk out from where she'd hidden at Greystark, announcing to the world: "here I am, Melody Pond. Save me, now… please?"

But Amy didn't - and the Doctor didn't - and she _couldn't_. The bravery of little Melody had extended only to saving herself from a frightening white suit... And besides, River can feel the lines of paradox close in tight around her on that last thought, stifling her mind until she hastily locks it away. Files it in her brain under the heading: 'Not to be Considered, Ever Ever Ever'.

Those were all might-have-beens that could have ended differently. Some happy, some infinitely more sad; and River can see the alternate time lines unfolding before her... Can almost feel and taste the different experiences. No way to go back and relive them though. Decisions once made can not be undone.

What if Mels had settled down to Leadworth life? Married Jeff. Become -oh the horrors- respectable? She can see that time line too. Mels, comfortable and plump with a string of children following her, one hand resting on her pregnant belly as she haggles with the butcher over the price of beef. The domestic bliss of a football mum, worried about clean linens and putting out the rubbish bins, snuggling with her family in front of the telly on a Sunday night and preparing lunches on weekday mornings.

Its a stifling concept in a different way from the straitjacket feel of defying paradox, stifling and tempting all at once. She's never had that, and without ever once experiencing that sort of normalcy, that life unlived takes on the feel of an illicit, evocative fantasy.

But it's not her, is it? How long would Mels have been happy; how long would she have survived in that?

Not long. The end of that timeline leads to a life unfulfilled, to divorce, and weeping... which really just leads to another file in River's brain, under: 'Nice Thought, But Could Never Have Happened'.

The possibilities hit her faster and harder today it seems; and River groans under the onslaught. What if Mels had fled Leadworth and never returned until long after the Ponds were a distant memory; what if she  
had never followed her parents to a cornfield; what if she had never spoken those ill-fated words -_let's kill Hitler!_- which started the whole dizzying spiral to River.

And what if Mels Zucker had taken another road, regenerated back to infancy? River closes her eyes, feeling a tangible regret tightening her stomach to knots. That one... Oh that might-have-been is most definitely a could-have-been, a good one. The family she'd always dreamed of. The Ponds, bright eyed with the ecstasy of being able to raise their snatched away baby. The Doctor, pleased that he'd managed it after all, saved her...

Everyone deserves a second chance and that could have been hers and his and theirs... All of theirs. Except. She can see the years stretching forth in her mind. It would have postponed the inevitable, not erased it. Melody Pond killing the Doctor was, is, and always would be a fixed point. One day in her life, she would always have seen him dead on the shores of Lake Silencio from a touch of her lips. The how might have changed, but not the deed itself.

And what if selfishness had triumphed after all; that urge to run and run and run and not save anyone except herself? She knows her parents could never understand that euphoria that comes after regeneration, when you can literally be anything you choose... But, oh he'd understood; her Doctor, who had a healthy dose of selfishness himself. He'd known _exactly_ what he was doing, begging her to step inside the TARDIS and save her parents. He'd trusted in his old girl to get into her brain, subtly change her mind and start the process to turn her into his River, and then save him too.

But if she hadn't... If she had cheerfully let them all die before maybe stealing his already stolen TARDIS, gone on her way to wreak havoc across time and space. Never turned into Doctor River Song; never stood on a pyramid in an alternate timeline with a bowtie around her knuckles and a kiss on her lips; never taken those last steps that led _here_. Lying on a narrow bed in Stormcage, thinking about lost possibilities and paradoxes and what-ifs and maybes. Wondering if, perhaps, she might have preferred something other than the choices she's made...

She hears the hum of the TARDIS even before it appears, the loud vworp-vworp as the mechanisms grind against the handbrake during the landing, and River turns her head as her husband strolls out.

"Hello dear," he greets, casually unlocking her cell with a wave of the sonic. "Busy this evening?"

She can't help the fond smile creeping over her face, the fluttering of her hearts at the sight of his face.

"It depends," she drawls, sitting up slowly. "I might be persuaded to go out... If the offer is good."

"It is," he promises. "I was thinking of the Lapidary Gardens? You'll never see anything like it... Emerald lilies, amethyst forget-me-nots… everything hand crafted by some of the galaxies most famous artisans.

"And," he adds, "if we go in the 43rd century, they've even installed the waterfall by then. We can pan for gold, sift the gravel to find the hidden diamonds..."

"Sounds like an elaborate get rich quick scheme. I'm in."

He giggles at her, a slightly giddy sound that she has come to adore and reaches out to pull her from the bed into his arms.

"Do you know," he whispers conversationally, "I can picture you with sapphire roses in your hair."

She plants a small kiss on his temple, laughing softly up at him. "What a coincidence. I can picture me stealing sapphire roses to put in my hair."

"Oh, my bad girl..." But he is laughing as they walk toward the TARDIS, and he bows like a gentleman before ushering her inside.

Some days, River lies on her bed in Stormcage, thinking of the twists and turns that led her to where she is, wondering if she might have been happier in a life not led.

And some days, she walks arm in arm with her husband surveying the beauties of an impossible landscape with gemstone flowers in her hair; and River is more than happy that those might-have-beens remain what they are.


End file.
